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You don’t like me – and that’s perfectly fine

No, really. It’s completely fine. You don’t have to like me.

I get it. We all want to be liked, we want to be the popular one, we want to be the one that people will want to hang around, because they like us. We want to be accepted for who we are, and people liking us is a pretty good indicator of that. Some strive to be liked so much that they forget themselves. People pleasers, they’re called instead. They’re not liked, because in the game of being liked, you win or you die. No, that’s not right. But in all honesty, it’s a game that you can’t win. The lines are so fuzzy and navigating in other people’s perception is a goddamn mess. We can hardly navigate our own.

It’s something I’ve been thinking about for some time now, and the growing realization of the hypocrisy involved in all this, is starting to piss me off. In particular because I’ve been doing it myself since forever. Nothing like realizing you’ve been a bit of an idiot most of your life, to get you a little grumpy.

We celebrate individuality to the point of religious fanaticism. Be your own person. You are unique. You have a strong personality. Being an individual, being someone who stands out from the crowd, has turned into the equivalent of farting diamonds. Being special, being one of a kind, is perceived to be the utmost glory.

And then we aren’t allowed to not like each other. What?

We really are individuals, we really are unique in some way, none of us share a personality. We might have similarities, but no two people are the same. But disliking each other? Oh Holy Jesus on a flying fuck, we can’t have that! Oh no! Then something must be wrong with someone. There is this demand for an explanation, and that pisses me off.

“Oh, but why? What happened? What is wrong with them? Did they do something? Why don’t you like them?!”

Christ Almighty, the questions, and coming from the very people who throw gasoline on the individuality-fire. If you dare to say that there is someone you don’t like, you get thrown into a third degree interrogation, like you had information on the whereabouts of Hitler. (I do know where Hitler is, he’s very dead, and have been for quite some time now, but you get my point)

It’s because I don’t. That’s all. There doesn’t have to be a reason, at all. I can find their company so boring I would rather stare into a wall for a solid 5 hours, without a reason. I can have a desire to shove gravel into my ears when they speak, without a reason. I can spot them in a crowd and decide I would rather crawl on my hands and feet home, without a reason. We just don’t mix and there doesn’t have to be a reason for that.

The only reason there is, is that I don’t like them.

The underlying expectation that we should all be best buddies and hang out and have pyjama parties, is completely illogical. It’s backwards and hypocritical, and I’ve done it myself for ages. How can anyone expect everyone to get along, if we are all taught to embrace our differences? You can’t shove 7 different animals in a cage and expect them to do a cuddle-puddle. They will eventually find ways to kill each other, because they are different animals, and perhaps it’s not entirely necessary to force them to hang out.

So, yes. I really mean it when I say it. It’s perfectly fine that you don’t like me. I don’t need a reason, unless you’re a friend and I’ve done a dumdum fuck-up, and you would still like me to be your friend, then a reason would be kinda nice, so I could fix it. If you’re not my friend, then behold my field of fucks, and see that it is barren. I don’t demand an explanation. I also don’t need it. I might not even want it.

It’s fine, you don’t have to like me.

 

Chances are I don’t like you either.

 

 

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